Page 17 of Painted with Love

“It seems so. If you girls have no objections, I shall write back immediately. I am sure his company will be equally useful and pleasant to you.”

“Please do so, Uncle. Tell Mr Bingley we are grateful for his offer,” Elizabeth replied, while Jane nodded, flushed and nervous.

***

“Darcy, I truly appreciate your support,” Bingley said. “As wrong as you were in the past, you have proved to me that you respect my choices and consider my happiness.”

The two of them were in Darcy’s library, the day after the visit to Gracechurch Street. They had spent the previous afternoon debating what to do next, ending with Bingley’s decision to reopen Netherfield and travel back to Hertfordshire with the Bennet sisters.

“I deserve no credit, Bingley. I am just relieved that your friendship with Miss Bennet was not completely ruined by my presumptuous intervention.”

“Will you visit me at Netherfield?”

“I would like to, but my plans are still uncertain. You should enjoy your time there, nevertheless.”

“I shall. I have already told Caroline and Louisa that they are not welcome to join me. They have tested my patience too much already. I need time to forget and forgive them.”

“You are the master of the house — you should impose your rules on everyone.”

“I intend to do so. Now I shall leave you. I am going home to wait for Mr Gardiner’s answer.”

“I am quite confident of it being in the affirmative,” Darcy replied as Bingley rose to depart.

While he was indeed confident that Bingley’s letter would receive a positive answer, he was not equally sure about the one waiting on his desk. He had received it earlier that day and recognised Wickham’s handwriting, but then Bingley had arrived, and the letter had needed to wait. Now that he was alone again, Darcy finally ripped it open, curious about what the scoundrel had to say.

Darcy,

I wonder how you found the watch and why it was given to you since I planned to retrieve it myself this week. Now that you have it, so much the better.

You are too hasty to accuse me of stealing. The watch was willingly given to me, and if you were not told that, it means a certain person chose to lie to you.

I do not know what other things you wish to discuss with me. If you have a business proposal, I shall listen to it. I am not so fond of life in the militia as to reject a more advantageous offer.

I shall be in London in two days, together with two friends who will join me if you request a private meeting. I shall send you a note when I am settled.

Darcy put down the letter, staring at the fire. He could read between the lines and understood that Wickham had already done something to endanger his position in the regiment, so he was probably looking for an alternative source of funds. It was always the same — wherever he went, he usually managed to maintain the appearance of goodness for a few months, then he revealed his true character and was forced to move on.

What troubled Darcy was the reference to the watch being given to him as a gift. A tightness in his chest made him doubt his sister and himself. Could it be? He had to know the truth in order to negotiate with Wickham. Any detail he missed would give that reprobate an advantage in their argument, and it could expose a secret he had struggled to keep hidden.

Georgiana had still not left her room, and it had been almost a week now. As much as it pained him to force her, it was time for a serious conversation. She might suffer momentarily, but she had to share the truth.

He walked towards his sister’s room with a heavy heart and a reluctance he had never felt before. He knocked, and Mrs Annesley opened the door.

“Forgive me for disturbing you. I need to speak to my sister for a few moments. Privately, please.”

Mrs Annesley hesitated, then she stepped away, allowing him to enter. Georgiana was sitting by the window, holding a book that she seemed to have entirely forgotten was in her hand. On the table was a tray with food and tea, barely touched.

“Dearest, may I sit for a moment? We need to talk,” he said.

Georgiana nodded, while Mrs Annesley left the room.

“My dear, you look ill and pale. I am sure you are not sleeping and not eating. You must talk to me so I can help you.”

“I do not need help. I am well,” she whispered. “I am so sorry for giving you so much trouble. I am nothing but a burden to you…”

“Georgiana, please stop,” he requested, a little too harshly. “You are the only one who blames yourself, and you are suffering from guilt, even though the situation is not your fault. I cannot believe I allowed George Wickham to hurt you so deeply. I should have protected you from him and from Mrs Younge. I failed in my duty as a brother.”

“Please do not say that!” she begged tearfully. “Nothing pains me more than to know I hurt you!”